


Grave Robbers

by sourtongue



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: this is going to be another angtsy one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourtongue/pseuds/sourtongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sock wants his knife back.<br/>Jonathan doesn't like getting dirty or seeing dead bodies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a dream a friend of mine had who gave me permission to turn it into a little writing project so i'm running with it.  
> Thanks Kamijou ;)

"Hey Jonathan, are you busy?"

Said male sits at his desk, back facing the bed that the intangible boy hovers over. A thick textbook and notebook are laid out open onto the desk, the no. 2 pencil in Jon's hand scratches across the paper, filling in the lines with note after note on how the Universe is one endless mess of Stars, Nebulae and Dark Void. 

"No, Sock; I'm currently not busy doing Science homework."  


Jonathan doesn't turn around when Sock begins whining, repeatedly calling him by a plethora of names the Demon knows makes him cringe and wince in disgust and annoyance. He tries his best to keep ignoring the pestering entity and for once in his miserable life to just be able to finish a single assignment. 

"Come on, Jonathan! It's important! Your stupid science homework wouldn't ev-"

The page of the textbook turns and the notes continue. One would think that being in a constant state of irritation with the world and all who inhabit it would be the perfect opportunity for a teenage boy's handwriting to resemble the claw-marks of poultry but surprisingly, it's neat and tidy. 

"Wouldn't even exist if I killed myself. Yeah I know. Pick a different line will you?" 

He hears Sock sigh, and for a moment it's silent and Jonathan finally thinks he'll have the peace and quiet he so desperately needs to finish his homework. Just because he despises everything there is about school, doesn't mean he despises being educated. There is a difference. He goes to turn the next page, the last one for the assignment; having already completed four previously but he yelps and his breath hitches sharply when he feels a presence with a sub-zero temperature pass through him and stay there.

Glancing down in spiritual discomfort, his grip on his pencil is tightened due to body shock; from his shoulders up, Sock is sticking out from the center of Jonathan's chest, grinning. The blonde speaks through a clenched jaw, still not entirely used to the experience and feeling; and never really planning to get used to it. It makes him nauseous.

"..Sock.. I told you to stop doing that.."

The Demon phases his hands into the living body glaring down at him with anything but comfort in his storm eyes and his fingers wiggle around where the male's stomach sits, watching him jerk suddenly with a nauseated look on his face.

"What? You don't like me inside of you, Hot Stuff?"

It's a joke that earns a laugh from the ginger brunette alone and he pulls the rest of his body through Jonathan and pretends to sit on the dark wood desk while the faux blonde re-cooperates from his ghostly encounter, shuddering.

"No. I don't.."

With Sock planted practically on top of his homework and a strong lurching in his stomach that's subsiding rather slowly, just his luck; Jonathan knows there's no way he's finishing his homework now. Or tonight even. He'd just have to do it during lunch. Again. But at least he's passing some of his classes.

"Well that's a killjoy. I like being inside you."

A disgusting fluster paints the teen's face and he leans back in his chair, head falling onto the neck rest as Jon stares at the still ceiling fan; groaning in heavy irritation because he can feel Sock's stupid striking green eyes on him and he knows that if he doesn't look at him soon, the Demon just might slip another intangible hand into his abdomen and finger at his intestines until he actually vomits. 

Jonathan shivers at the thought and sits up straight; looking at the dead boy as he tries his very best to blow onto the page of the science textbook to make it move though it barely flutters.

"Okay. Okay. You have my unwilling and undivided attention now, Sock. What do you want?"

The textbook page gets a little more life to it when Sock blows his hardest but it's hard to blow air out of your mouth when one, you're dead and two, you have a hole in your torso. That's probably where all the air is going to and the fact that he can't make much of the paper bores him and now he's staring at Jonathan; who has nowhere else to really go or nothing else to really do besides stare back. The eye contact makes his lively skin crawl and he finds himself fighting back an uncomfortable blush from coating his cheeks. 

Sock, on the other hand, has silenced quite a bit and looks almost anxious. Though his eyes are locked to Jon's, his hands are fiddling with his scarf, his goggles, the flaps of his hat; the only things he can actually touch solidly.

"....."

Jonathan rolls his eyes, running one hand through his hair only to have it fall right back where it sits on his head, parted awkwardly and his arms cross over his chest.  


"For the love of- Did you really harass me and interrupt me with my homework just so you can sit there and be all nervous over whate-"

"..I need your help."

Looking at the entity now, Jonathan can see that he isn't making eye contact anymore and is instead, looking everywhere else. Even the open pages of crisp and clean notes has grabbed Sock's attention and they seem to be more interesting right now than looking at Jonathan's eyes had ever been. The adolescent is almost offended. 

Keyword almost. 

"With.. what?"

From the way he inhales, exhales, prepares himself to say his next set of sentences; it's obvious it's something that he's been wanting to ask for.. who knows how long. Whatever it is; it isn't what Jonathan expects him to ask but at the same time, it's exactly what he expected the Demon to ask of him.

"Will you.. come to my grave with me?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my writing style and length differ even between chapters but please bare with me!  
> It comes n' goes.  
> Sorry these chapters are so short but I could probably use that to an advantage.  
> Shorter chapters = More chapters mayhaps??

"Your.. grave?"

Sock nods, eyes still fixated on Jonathan's homework. His mouth is in a thin line, and he avoids meeting the thunder cloud orbs that try to look into his own so Jon settles on staring at the Demon's boots instead. Eternally scuffed and worn.

"Can I ask why?"

Jonathan's hand rubs the back of his neck, gaze alternating between Sock and his boots. The mention of the intangible's grave allows something heavy and sad to settle down into the male's core. It's not like he wasn't aware of the Demon's deceased status. It's just that sometimes- most times, Jonathan genuinely forgets that he's friends with a boy who killed himself. 

Because having Sock around, as much as Jonathan stubbornly hates to admit it; he's used to the ginger brunette. He's used to having him around, used to his pestering, used to his ridiculous hat and torn jeans, used to Him. So much in fact; that he has to remind himself that Live People don't float or hover or have everlasting open wounds in the center of their torsos that continuously leak Demon blood.

Truthfully; it's heartbreaking when he does happen to remember. He can't imagine, doesn't want to imagine how lonely Sock must've been before being assigned to him. Doesn't want to imagine what went through his mind during that night, and afterwards; when he woke up on a different ground in a different plane of existence, under the command of.. he-who-doesn't-like-to-be-called-the-Devil.

"I just want to see my parents. And.. to get something that I left behind."

Lips part, mouth opens, words sit on his tongue ready to jump off and ask  
'Left behind where?' but he stops the moment it clicks into his mortal mind that Sock means 'Left behind where I died.' 

"Oh.."  
Is all that Jonathan can think to say currently. Does he want to know what it is Sock wants to get? Yes. Will he ask? No. Not right now.

In the time span it took for Jonathan to question and Sock to answer; the blond had moved to sitting on the edge of his mattress, then to laying back onto it and linking his hands together across his chest. Laying there he remembers this is the pose all dead people are set with while they're in their coffin and then lowered into the earth with the worms and maggots; and then Jonathan pictures Sock's body like that, in the dirt, coffin-less, crawling with anything and everything but Life and immediately, he re-positions to put his arms behind his head.

It's strangely quiet for the next hour and a half that Jonathan lays on his bed, staring up in silence then blinking his eyes open once he realizes he's dozed off. Sitting up, using one elbow for support, he rubs his eye with the other hand; realizing instantly that he's the only one in his room now and that the heavy feeling in the center of his entire being is still present.

His homework still sits on the desk where he left it a number of hours ago, the edge of the textbook page that Sock was desperately attempting to blow over left untouched and flat.

Moving off the bed, Jonathan goes over to the desk and sits down at his chair, picking up his pencil and attempting to resume where he'd left off but he can't find it in himself to focus on the Universe and it's Endless Void right now. The pencil taps against his open book, he holds his head in his hand, staring down at the notes but being unable to process them at all to continue. 

He puts the pencil down with a sigh.  
The silence that is usually filled with Sock's laughter or the lyrics and tunes of Valhalla Soundbox is so empty and so deafening that it makes his ears ring uncomfortably. He leans back in the chair, closing his book with the pencil as a bookmark.

"Where'd you go, Sock..?"

Silence. 

Maybe his boss called him back. Or he went downstairs to harass the Combs' family cat. Or maybe he went to his grave; to check it out before bringing Jonathan there. 

When would they go anyway?  
The middle of the night? Well that'd be the only sensible option unless he wanted to get caught by.. Whoever or whatever would be there in the daylight hours. Though what lurks there at night can't possibly be any better.


End file.
